Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

   But whoso entereth within this town,
   That, sheening far, celestial seems to be,
   Disconsolate will wander up and down,
   Mid many things unsightly to strange e’e;
   For hut and palace show like filthily;
   The dingy denizens are reared in dirt;
   No personage of high or mean degree
   Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt,
Though shent with Egypt’s plague, unkempt, unwashed, unhurt.